Blackfeather Woods Breached her sanctuary

He remained paused there, waiting for some sign of movement. And lo and behold, there it was. Two small figures towards him, intent on scaling the Glen's slopes. He had to hold in a gasp of shock, the sight catching him far more offguard than he had expected. The boy of the two had no neck. He blinked, then looked once more. No neck.

But despite this limitation, he spoke with a familiar impishness that he knew well in children. The boy seemed to be find considering, adjusting well to his deformity. He knew that Potema's children were twisted — expected it, even — but he had never seen a mutation such as the boy had. The girl's he had encountered many a time, and it could be overcome — he knew how to train for it — but he could not make any heads or tails about him.

He saw no reason not to treat them as he would any other children, and spoke as such. I am your mother's uncle. My name is Miraak, He rumbled softly, his voice neutral. What are your names?